


I'm Not Here

by WanderstheWorld



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Familiars, Harry might be evil but we're not sure, Master of Death Harry Potter, Mirror of Erised, Time Travel, more character tags to be added - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:41:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22966336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderstheWorld/pseuds/WanderstheWorld
Summary: This is a work in progress, I would love to complete it, but I'm flying blind and have no idea where I'm going yet.The war was over for everyone but Harry. Trapped in a world that moved on without him, Harry Potter, a 28yo war general and Auror has spent the last decade in a war dealing with the fallout from Voldemort's defeat. He's finally done only to be yanked into another universe altogether and back into his past just because no one bothered to doublecheck the summoning mirror. Oops.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Severus Snape
Comments: 49
Kudos: 290





	1. Forest of Dean

**Author's Note:**

> Need honest opinions, still deciding on a world without Harry in the original time period or going back to when his parents were in school.

The ground was scorched, flames trailed lazily along the wreckage left behind of what was once Diagon Alley. A group of blood-stained boots tread carefully through the field of corpses, battle-worn and weary yet ever vigilant for a stray surviving Death Eater. There was a stir not twenty feet away, some rubble shifted to the side as a masked figure attempted to emerge.

Eleven pairs of eyes flicked towards their leader. "Avada Kedavra," the words rolled easily from Harry's lips. The group resumed its careful march.

Two hours later official confirmation was given out, it was over, finally. Ten years to put to rest the rallying forces after Voldemort's downfall. The Wizarding World never would have guessed that the Death Eaters would so skillfully regroup after their Dark Lord's defeat, and yet, it had happened swiftly and efficiently. Followers numerous as never before imagined all heeded the call to arms, now able and willing to emerge from the shadows to leadership sound of mind and a masterful plan in place.

Two days later saw the rebuilding of an era, a school, a town, an alley. The ministry had managed to prop itself up with Potter's inner circle actively taking over the main branches and recruiting any competent wizards who were willing to show up to work.

Two weeks later and civilian wizards started emerging from their hidden homes. Those who were too untrained to fight _and_ too intelligent to be caught as hostages knew well enough to disappear when the Order rolled through chasing war and bringing death to Harry's enemies.

Two months later and a functioning, if skeletal, society had emerged. It was the start of summer and school terms would begin in the fall. The blood was washed from the ground and the spots in dark corners, many which still bore a hint of gore, was hardly noticeable.

Two years later and all was as it should be. A world at peace. Wizards walked freely, be it in groups or alone, content in their business and at ease in their homes. The next generation of young magical hopefuls was being educated under the watchful eye of a ministry free of corruption. And Harry Potter? Harry Potter was gone.

Harry Potter had disappeared and none were the wiser. The papers had him down as a dangerous, war-tried, powerful wizard who had saved the world with fast dueling and efficient leadership. Where he was now was surely nothing of note for the average, peaceful citizen.

If any were curious enough to seek him out, they would find Harry hidden in plain sight under illusion charms so as to avoid the massive crush of reporters that had dogged his every step immediately following the war's victory. In fact, it was on such an outing that Harry found himself on now, sliding through the crowds of Diagon Alley with the practiced ease that one could only gain from navigating a battlefield of flying curses and fallen bodies. It was all a rather tedious affair. Harry knew better by now than to let his guard down, should someone manage to startle him his first reflex would be to whip around and raise his wand, possibly resulting in death or serious bodily harm. Wearing battle-robes was uncommon enough, having such a reflex was simply _not done_ anymore, two weeks, hell, two months even after the war such a habit was more than expected from any of the jumpy veterans that walked the streets. Nowadays though? Harry found himself wondering exactly what happened to force the wizards around him into such a lull of complacency. Dark wizards still walked the world as did many dangerous and dark creatures regularly encountered in the wilds, it was one of the reasons Harry was so drawn to traveling, to avoid the tedious patter of boredom and complacency that had once again entrapped wizarding Britain.

Harry did have a job though. He was an auror. His actual assignment was a solo watch on the magical world at large keeping an eye out for anomalies or events that could have a serious impact on the future safety and existence of the wizarding community, Britain in particular.

For the moment, Harry found himself in the middle of a forest in magical Britain where he was investigating the output of a major power source of raw magic pooling out into the surrounding area.

In hindsight, continuing to approach the downtrodden shack in the middle of a clearing full of dead plants in the shape of a perfect circle surrounded by trees that were eery reflections of each other and grown completely by magic… well, it might not have been the _best_ idea. Even so, monitoring these sort of threats had become his responsibility in a way— there was literally no one else either qualified or willing to look into such threats before they became a major incident.

With caution and a light step, Harry made his approach still holding his wand at the ready. None of his scans of the trees or dead clearing showed an active magic, though the strength of the lingering latent power was certainly cause for concern. He could recognize a mage circle when he saw one and, from what his diagnostic spells were able to gleam, this ritual appeared to have been a recent summoning of some sort. Harry could not say that the lack of news for an impending apocalypse was reassuring. _Something_ had happened here, something powerful and hungry was forced into existence and it was his job to go looking for it.

Gently prodding the door open with a silent gesture of wandless magic, Harry saw the singular object placed within the small confines of the singular room. Standing at the very center was the Mirror of Erised and it had been very deeply corrupted. Harry raised an eyebrow at the unassuming mirror, seemingly innocent despite the erratic surges of energy it began to pulsate with from his increased proximity. Suspecting a ritual that had not fully been completed, Harry backed out slowly, noting with a breath of relief that the power had returned to its previous gentle ripple. Safely outside, Harry used his auror pin spelled with a protean charm to summon reinforcements— his calls were always answered swiftly and promptly, no questions asked, after a previous incident involving the disappearance of an entire mixed muggle-wizard village.

Kingsley Shacklebolt and Amelia Bones sighed at the summoning charm while roughly two dozen wizards ran to fetch magic-resistant gear cursing the day they were assigned to Potter’s response team.

The team of wizards used the apparition coordinates provided through the charm to group travel to Harry’s location. He huffed a small laugh in amusement at their tense postures having appeared in a defensive formation— it’s not like _every_ time he summons them is to an active battle.

In short order, Harry directed them to the mirror and gave his suspicions about the latent spell circle. Once cleared, a department of mysteries representative was summoned to dictate that the mirror would be remanded into the custody of the Unspeakables for study into how exactly it came to be involved in a ritual. At this point, several hours had passed— things tended to move slowly and cautiously when Auror Potter was around— and the response team was preparing to portkey the mirror away after survey spells would be cast in the area.

That was when Harry felt the power surge— the mirror was no longer reactive to their magical proximity but the survey spells brought it out in full force. Waves of magic rolled off the mirror and the aurors quickly made a run for it, not even needed Harry’s barked order.

“Fall back, shields up!” Harry bolted in front of the stragglers, throwing up the most powerful shield he could and began warding the area for magical backlash. Even though they were out of the spell circles range, anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards seemed to have been enacted by the ritual and Harry could feel the mirror reaching out to latch onto their magical signatures. In response, Harry threw out a wall of pure energy, redirecting its attention directly to him. Unfortunately, that seemed to be what the mirror was waiting for, locating his magic specifically completed the ritual and the world spun in a flash of golden light.

Harry Potter was gone with the mirror. Later that week a memorial statue was raised in his name and the world went on.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has gotten more interest than expected! I hope to continue (I even wrote a brief plan) but still no promises (yet)!

Harry landed in a rather ungraceful and bloody heap in the middle of what looked to be the Forest of Dean. It would look even more familiar if there was a clearing and a dilapidated mirror to match. Rather fortunately, this new place was not that place judging by the rush of apparation he felt roughly three klicks north west.

A push from his last dregs of magic forced his wounds closed, the lacerations leaving scars trailing across his body. Harry could never say he regretted the time spent fixing the gaps in his medical magical education.

Behind his occlumency shields, Harry’s thoughts were racing. He showed no sign of it, he rarely did. _No one could double check the mirror for spell sensitive activation triggers?_

The real question to deal with was whether or not the Mirror of Erised was _creating_ an alternate reality and sustaining it through some unknown source with his body either in stasis in the physical world or trapped inside or it had _transported_ him to an alternate reality altogether. Well, Harry supposed, it was only a question if he wanted to return or had a lot of time on his hands and needed a project.

_Besides, more pressing is the half dozen wizards who just apparated to where the mirror is and were apparently monitoring the spell site… or at least what they think is the spell site._

It would seem that where he was summoned from was misaligned. Most likely this ritual was indeed in the physical world and where it is and he came from was not a straight line. The wizard responsible for the runic calculations made a mistake and the pathway created was not straight. Like a person falling from one branch in a tree and getting hit by smaller branches along the way— big enough to hurt but not big enough to catch him. Idly, Harry wondered what would have happened if he _did_ get stopped on the way down. Harry then wondered if he should have drank a blood replenishing potion sooner as his consciousness slipped away.

The dim light before had vanished by the time Harry pulled himself into the waking world, fighting not to be dragged back down. The foreign magicals from before were still there, he could sense them as well as an overlay of magic saturating the area with scanning spells. Fortunately, the group seemed to be focused on the immediate area, not yet having branched out to the surroundings. Panting with the effort, Harry managed to pull himself up from the ground and took stock of his supplies. His dragonhide cloak was shredded and Harry thanked what little luck he had that he was fully dressed for battle when out in the field and always carried his possessions on him in an expandable pouch strapped to his belt. A check assured him that the Elderwand was still attached and in one piece to his forearm holster and another allowed him to swap for an intact cloak. His boots were still in working order and it was on foot that he began to walk in a slow, shuffling trudge through the trees.

It very well could have been the Forest of Dean for all Harry knew. Unfortunately, all he knew of his bearings was that it was time to move _away_ from the other wizards and whether he was going deeper or towards the edge of the woods was not something he could figure— there were certainly no detectable magical communities within range.

It was a long walk. Eventually, Harry could walk no more. Exhausted, he stumbled onto the edge of a clearing where he collapsed against the side of a tree, sliding down to sit leaning against it, breathing hard. This was it, he made it. Far enough to no longer sense any other beings, wizards or otherwise in the area. With trembling hands, Harry shakily managed to take a sip of water and a bite of waybread, not daring to use any of his few potions without real need. Until his magic replenished itself, they were his only defense against serious injury. It was into an uneasy sleep Harry fell into, waking in fits to the slightest noise, having rarely slept without wards or perimeter spells since the start of the war and never by choice.

At long last, the chill seeping into his bones despite the late summer season was what woke the weary wizard. Harry noted with a forceful sigh that it was _still_ getting dark meaning that at the very least, he lost an entire day. He supposed it was worth it for the magic he recovered. Slowly, Harry rose and carefully stretched out his cramped limbs, brushing the dirt and leaves off of himself as he did so. He froze once he got a better look at his bearings. The Forest of Dean. The clearing with the tent. It looked so familiar yet foreign— it was only a shadow of a version.

Harry closed his eyes, blocking the sight out, and instead concentrated on the image of Diagon Alley, the apparition point next to the Leaky Cauldron on the muggle side. Without a sound, the last wizard left the forest, disapparating without a sound.

It was a confident newcomer who stepped into the bar under Tom’s watch. Observing how the occupants sat, tense, crouched, and always in pairs. A habit of hard times he would never have noticed without the recent snatches of peace when he stepped back into the civilized world to contrast so sharply. He sat at the bar and wordlessly gestured for a copy of the paper and a meal.

Tom brought out the meal to the young man reading the paper, he looked to be a recent graduate, though foreign so perhaps back from work abroad. “Were you from last year’s group?”

The dark-haired wizard raised an eyebrow in response. “From Hogwarts, I mean.”

Now his eyes, an eerie green, raised to meet his, there was no flicker of recognition in them, in fact there was no emotion whatsoever and that _lack_ was more unnerving than their vibrant, almost glowing color. He huffed and the side of his lip quirked in amusement, although his eyes were still so _empty_. “No, I’ve been told I look young.”

“You’re not that old! I had you figured for 18 but you can’t be older than 22 I’d wager.”

“Try 28.” Now the wizard was coming alive a bit more. Tom whistled low, impressed. “Now what’s this here in the paper? Death Eater blitz attacks? Skirmishes in the streets?”

“Ah, I was right about you being abroad at least,” Tom replied, shaking his head solemnly. “You must have been hard not to have heard. You-know-who has been gathering his forces. Some say it’s because of the anniversary year.”

“Anniversary?”

“You know. Young Harry was supposed to start Hogwarts this year. Poor lad finally slipped away, terrible business losing the kid to a coma after all this time.” _Wait. What?_

“I see.” Harry really did _not_ see. “And… Harry… fell into the coma after— “

“Aye, _the night_ . When it all happened and _he_ was banished near halfway around the world. Black’s betrayal. The Potters’ deaths. Terrible business,” Tom sighed, appearing to have finished on the current topic of conversation. Harry nodded at the barkeep and let the talk lapse into silence, finishing reading the Prophet in peace finding nothing newsworthy save the attacks and what he now realized was mention of his counterpart’s death three days ago— a timeline that could very well coordinate with his arrival.

“I need a room for the next few nights.”

Tom nodded, having expected it based on his well-travelled apparel. “Here,” he passed a key. “Room’s yours as long as you’d like.” The money changed hands and Harry went up the stairs, warded his room to high heaven, and slept for two days.

Thousands of miles away, a meeting was called about a missing wizard and an expected visitor.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel it's only fair to mention that I write this at hours far too close to dawn to be healthy. Any errors in canon (some are intentional but if it serves no purpose then likely not) or in grammar, abrupt style changes, etc. are not intended. Feel free to point out anything I've missed and I'll fix it. I happen to be VERY out of practice and I'm hoping this project will help.

Harry woke slowly, his throat ached and his mouth was dry enough for him to be hiking in the desert. In fact, he was confused by the lack of rolling hills of sand beyond his tent when he sat up instead in a bed with a roof. None of his wards had gone off— Tom not having checked on his wayward guest’s disappearance— and he slept in peace, fully recovering both his health and magic. A thought had a skin of water left out summoned into his hand. Satisfied and no longer parched, he dressed fully and made it down the stairs to eat a quick meal and set out for the Alley with a nod to Tom. It was not until he stepped out through the passageway into the sunlight to be swarmed by Hogwarts students that Harry realized he never asked the date. With his odds, it was the final day of the month, July 31st.

He stepped into the flow and quickly fell into step with the crowd, using it to his advantage to remain unobserved and unbothered on its outskirts. He managed to step into Flourish and Blotts, which was thankfully markedly less occupied by the young wizards-in-training. Harry stood for a moment to watch them out the window, remembering fondly when he too was a Hogwarts student and the world was full of wonder and magic, deadly quests, yearly confrontations with Vold— _wait. No. Definitely not those sort of memories_.

“More than you bargained for?” A sudden female voice had him pivoting, wand slipping into his palm, and a curse on his mind. It was only the sharp jolt of recognition that had him drawing his magic back. Minerva Mcgonagall. She was a professor he could remember fondly, and she never tried to kill him, not even once… well, repeatedly disregarding student concerns about say Death Eater plots or blood quills might have some bearing.

There was a brief pause. “I had forgotten the date. And yourself?”

“An expected hazard I’m afraid. I am showing a fellow Professor around. Minerva Mcgonagall, Deputy Headmistress,” she offered a friendly smile and gestured to her approaching colleague. “This is Professor Quirrell, he is recently back from a trip abroad, Albania. He will be teaching defense this year after moving on from Muggle Studies. You look like quite the traveler yourself, quite the reflexes you have mister…”

“Black. A pleasure,” Harry nodded to each of the professors in turn. Black. It just rolled off his tongue from habit, after all the name _was_ his after a fashion thanks to Sirius’s will. Minverva raised an eyebrow.

“Indeed,” replied Quirell. His voice was confident, not a hint of a stutter. _Huh. No possession this time round._

“I was not aware the Black family had another wizard in their line,” Minerva’s statement was a question, a very skeptical one at that.

“I’m from a rather distant branch of the family that has died out. I doubt my British cousins are aware— I’ve been raised and traveling abroad since.”

“Ah,” Minerva’s eyes had now brightened with curiosity. “What work did you pursue?”

“Well, a bit of everything but I’d think you call it Defense.”

“I see I was correct that you and Professor Quirrell would have a lot to talk about.” Harry huffed and resisted the urge to fidget and Minerva’s knowing smile.

“I apologize, I tend to react poorly when startled.”

“Not at all, in these times, it is unwise to go out unprepared,” Quirrell reassured. It was strange, Harry could _almost_ say he was a decent person. Not quite though, if the likely death eater tattoo he could feel emitting a brief pulse of magic from his arm was any indication.

“Not to be abrupt but I must attend to other matters,” Harry excused himself as politely as he could from the situation and tried his best not to look like he was fleeing out onto the streets. Voldemort was _not_ his problem this time around— he had plenty of other problems to deal with, like being pulled into an alternate world.

“Of course, it was nice to meet another adult not merely running about for their child’s wand or new robes,” Mcgonagall stated ruefully, effectively ending their stilted conversation.

Slipping back through the crowds, Harry threaded a path to Gringotts. His old professor did remind him of something. He was in a new world with effectively no identity and, with his luck, it would not do to be unprotected by even the small comfort legal documents afforded.

Patiently, Harry waited for his turn with the teller. “I am here for an inheritance test.”

The teller sneered before growling in gobbledygook to a goblin nearby who stepped up to lead him away. “I will take you to see Griphook.”

Harry remained silent, knowing there were limits to the hospitality their race’s tentative peace called for. Niceties were beyond the point and would not get him far in any regard. In short order, he was ushered into Griphook’s office.

“Name?”

“I would like to be officiated as Hadrian Black.” That garnered him a raised eyebrow.

“Two drops of blood.” The parchment and dagger were handed over and Harry did as instructed.

Two sets of eyes waited as lines of ink flowed across the sheet.

_Hadrian Black._

_Titles (see additional documents for related properties and holdings):_

_Lord Potter_

_Lord Black_

_Lord Peverell_

Griphook merely looked back up at the wizard and raised a brow once more.

“I would like my rings sent up and keys to the vaults. Destroy all other copies.”

“One moment Lord Black.” That. That right there was why Harry always liked Griphook. Very efficient and not much phased him in either world. Harry liked to think that before he broke into a vault and flew out on a dragon that Griphook felt the neutrality as well.

The rings arrived and fitted nicely on his finger, the three merging before disappearing from the eyes of unwanted observers.

“Will that be all _Lord Black_ ?” _Was that skepticism?! Again?!_

“Indeed, my thanks,” Harry dipped his head in acknowledgement and left the building in short order.

It was a beautiful day. Harry now held legal standing in the Wizarding world and students rushed from one place to the next, eager to prepare for their education. That was of course when the men in black robes and white masks apparated into the Alley to attack.

Were anyone near enough, they would have heard Harry’s words muttered under his breath. “Of course.” This was before he slipped from the panicking crowd and was lost from sight, palming his wand without a thought.

Quickly, Harry threw variances of shield charms for fire, strengthening, and self-repair at the buildings most of the masses seemed to be fleeing to. Farther ahead he could see very few adults covering the students’ retreat and losing badly, outnumbered by the dozen Death Eaters in the attack. Sickly green and other malicious spells were being slung with an alarming frequency. Bringing up a shield, Harry started to sling _diffindos_ in response, not wasting time fooling around with stunners.

Twisting out of the way of a yelled, “ _Avada Kedavra!_ ” Harry returned fire and clipped the Death Eater who went down with a sharp shout of pain, he smirked recognizing it as the elder Nott’s voice. Rounding sharply, Harry found an assailant backing towards him and quickly grabbed the man by the shoulder, pulled him towards him, wrapped his hands around his head, and yanked. Harry dropped the body when he heard the neck snap, immediately taking aim on his next target while making his way across towards the other wizards.

“Close ranks!” he ordered, calling out loudly. “You two, get the stragglers indoors. The rest of you, shields up!” Harry had to admit he was rather amazed they listened. He was even more surprised to see Minerva amongst them slinging spells, slightly surprised, and slightly unnerved that this woman was allowed to supervise children. Sure she was stern but she had always seemed more harmless than not to him but _Merlin,_ he’d never have even _thought_ about breaking curfew if he’d seen this.

It was over rather quickly to Harry. Short skirmishes were uncommon near the end of the war. Most of his experiences with ambushes ended in long and drawn out chases, with no hope of Aurors arriving to neatly contain the situation in sight.

Harry had to admit, it was quite convenient. The Aurors made a perimeter then removed the prisoners and corpses from the area before taking a quick statement from all involved. Injured wizards were given aid or medevaced to St. Mungos. The students were reunited with their parents and ushered out while shopkeepers started to cast repairs.

Meanwhile, Harry made his way over to Minerva who was standing by the small line of eight white cloth covered fatalities from their side. Her face looked grim.

“Professor Quirrell,” Minerva’s voice was composed when she gestured to the left most of the too-still forms. “A seventh year, a fifth year, the rest perhaps parents or simply wizards on an errand.”

“War is a terrible thing.”

“I agree. You handled yourself well. Experienced?”

“Too much.”

“I think a practical defense professor would serve the students well.” Harry’s eyes widened before he started to stammer excuses to the path he could very clearly see the conversation going down.

“I agree, a qualified professor would be an ideal hire. You should be lucky that there is such a standardized testing system here, I have no formal testing.”

Minerva gave a small smile, Harry wanted to groan in frustration. It was her ‘I am being pleasant because this is going my way’ smile often used on wayward students caught out after dark. “Well, fortunately for you NEWTS can be scheduled and taken through the ministry for a nominal fee. Have you found work here Mr. Black? You should know that Hogwarts has just had an opening for the Defense position.”

“Really, I am a stranger whom you’ve only just met, I couldn’t possibly apply.” Harry was contemplating an emergency disapparition.

“A stranger from a long-standing British family who did not hesitate to help protect students in danger. No need to apply, I am the Deputy Headmistress, I can hire you on the spot.” Now Minerva looked him directly in the eyes. “It’s for the children.”

“Temporary.”

“At least till the Hols.”

“Very well.” This was the voice of a man who knows when he has been defeated.

“I’ll see you in four weeks, send the test results to Albus when you receive them.” With the matter settled, Minerva strode away, presumably to make arrangements for the dead.

Harry sighed and made his way to the Ministry’s Department of Education. “I need to make an appointment to sit for my NEWTS next week.”

“Very well sir, which exams will you be taking?” A bored secretary responded.

“All of them.” Judging by her face, it seemed to be a day of disbelief for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I am writing this for my own enjoyment and have a general idea where I'm going, any plot suggestions will be taken into account as I attempt to write my way from point A to B.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole online, no-contact thing has not been helping my limited willpower to actually post regular updates. I think I wrote this in at least three different sit-downs. If this doesn't make sense (because if I'm being honest it might not but I'm tired and if I don't post now it's not getting done) please just point it out to me and I will go back, otherwise just roll with it. 
> 
> P.S. the chapter is short but I just had a bunch of random things I wanted to add and I didn't want to link it to the next chapter where contact with the school gets rolling.

The Deputy Headmistress may have been slightly exaggerating when she said ‘hire on the spot’. A contract would definitely be offered but a meeting with the Headmaster was still required, it wouldn’t do for the new hire to meet his boss on the first day of the year.

Not a day later, Hadrian could be seen sighing as he read the letter he accepted from a Hogwarts owl a moment before. It was almost enough to make Hadrian scrap the tentative plans he had for scouring the library— if there was an answer it would either be in the Restricted Section or an old family library.

_Lord Hadrian Black,_

_My Deputy Headmistress was pleased to tell me she had found a replacement for Professor Quirrell for whom she delivered the most solemn news of his death._

Here Harry smirked, he did not see it himself but crossfire was rather convenient after all. Although it was slightly concerning not knowing what Voldemort was up to, not that he could not find out by slipping down their mutual connection a bit. It was just all very odd to do so, and insane, insanity had a bit of a slimy feel to it when in another’s mind.

_Fortunately she tells me you have agreed to take up the position until at least the Hols and I look forward to meeting you. If you can make your way to Hogwarts in three weeks time— I believe that will be plenty of time for the ministry to organize your NEWT results— I would like to discuss your class plans. It is too late to change the assigned textbooks if you so wish however I am sure they will be adequate materials for you to use._

_Signed_ _Professor_ _Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_ _, Order of_ _Merlin_ _(first class), Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Supreme Mugwump of the_ _International Confederation of Wizards_ _, and_ _Chief Warlock_ _of the Wizengamot._

Harry huffed, so Dumbledore knew that Quirrell was incompetent and let him teach anyway? Fortunately, the books were the same as his predecessor and did seem to be decent from what he remembered about his own education his first year. Too bad _his_ Quirrell was a terrible teacher and he even had Voldemort there, a dark arts _expert_.

Snorting at the thought of Voldemort actually teaching a group of firsties, Harry penned out a reply agreeing to the request and sent the owl off with his response. It was already the weekend so he had three days before Tuesday, the day of his exams, and nothing to do. Nothing was perhaps a slight exaggeration, there was always a good ‘ol Horcrux hunt if he started climbing the walls, hell the neighboring countries would likely still pay for him to take care of _their_ Dark Lords too. The Goblins offered short-contract positions for Curse-breakers if he wanted less… _bloody…_ work. Beyond that, he really did not have any marketable skills nor the patience to brew potions or create spells. Harry supposed that he should brush up for his NEWT exams, he did sign up to take them all and at this point he should know the materials— a decade of fighting what goes bump in the night does wonders to round out an education.

Well, there was always tomorrow to decide. This world is not his own, he could always ride it out and see what happens. Harry won’t deny he was never curious about what would happen if one of those ‘Dark Lords’ ever _actually won._ He was always of the opinion they would quit two weeks in or burn the world through sheer incompetence. Although, if Harry was being honest with himself, he will likely get involved anyway— trouble has a way of finding him and he has a slight ‘saving people’ thing that hasn’t gone away even after so many years.

Thoughts on matters all of which were far too serious, Harry decided, to be further considered for the moment. It was not quite night yet, but it _was_ getting dark, which meant that Harry had the day inside and, if his body was telling the truth, had forgotten to eat as well.

Harry apparated on the spot, appearing on the edge of Hogsmeade without a sound. It was a long jump but it was worth it, a walk by the Forbidden Forest had always helped him clear his head before.

It turned out to be a rather quick walk. The forest had grown to be a sanctuary of sorts for him, a place where he could, within reason, drop his guard and relax for very rarely did he find another wizard within the woods and as long as he kept his presence masked, the Centaurs of this world would not come hunting for him. The problem was, everytime Harry had checked the area, and tried to blunt the edge of his guard, just a little, it seemed the shadows started to move. Every time. From the corner of his eyes, a flash of movement, a soundless flicker of black. Harry would tense, whip around, wand drawn, a spell on his lips, and nothing would be there. All would be as still as it should be. Every time.

Harry left his walk _decidedly more tense_ than he began which was _not the point_ of his supposedly relaxing stroll. Upon his return to the Alley, this time the jump was a much easier endeavor with his new desire to get far, far away, all was well. His guard was up and his eye roamed the streets looking for any sign of anything being amiss, finding none, Harry decided that there must be something in this world’s Forest. Perhaps it was in his last world’s Forbidden Forest too and either the way events played out inadvertently fixed it or it was another’s adventure to tell.

It was an hour later when Harry gave up on finding something, resolving to return to the Forest at a later date and investigate further. In the end, Harry had gone to Knockturn Alley where he could stalk around without seeming out of place which was, in hindsight, a rather concerning trait of the place.

Returning to his room with a bowl of stew, Harry expanded then let his arm sink into his bottomless bag and summoned the relevant books to his hand. If there was one thing he would need to brush up on it was history, and probably the finer points of herbology unrelated to potions. The other subjects he had chosen to take were surprisingly relevant in his line of work.

The next few days passed quickly with Harry mostly taking the time to do a long distance apparition to an empty field, a physical workout, drill his magic, meditate, return, and then settle in to read the paper and brush up on the texts he was currently rotating through— Harry also decided a review of wizarding law was in order without his previous sort of untouchable (read: undesirable to have around longer than necessary) status.

Finally it was Tuesday, ten-o’clock in the morning sharp, and Harry was standing in the Ministry building, his wand weighed, and a name tag on his robes labeled ‘NEWT examinee’. Madam Marchbanks, still older than dirt, was the one to approach him.

“Hadrian Black?” She asked with a surprisingly strong voice.

“Yes ma’am,” Harry nodded at her and followed when she turned to walk.

“Decided to wait a year to take your NEWTs?”

“No ma’am, I’m older than I look. Any records from where I was previously located are not applicable here,” Harry replied evenly, Minerva didn’t seem to have a problem with how young he looked, then again she caught him in a combat situation and he’s been told death adds years.

“I see, well best of luck young man. You’ll sit the written portion then perform the practical for each exam with a half hour break between for the next proctor to come in and I’ll expect you back for the next two days at the same time.”

Friday afternoon saw Harry walking out of the Ministry building with his NEWT results in hand, O’s across the board. It did help that he had taken them already and was now an adult with several years of experience to really drive the material into his head. Now all Harry wanted to do was lay down on his bed and relax for a bit. Sure, he was fairly certain he would pass the exams but that did not mean they were not still long and taxing. His heavily warded, if temporary, room was the perfect place to do so.

The only problem was, the shadows kept moving every time he tried.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not mean to disappear for so long! Here's an extra-long (for me anyway) chapter to make up for it! I will likely be going back through and editing these for grammar/flow at some point. I write at all hours and not in one sitting so I feel like some details are bound to slip through the cracks here and there. When I do, I'll make a short summary of what was changed.

Everything was going okay. Harry’s NEWTS results were okay. The meeting with the Headmaster later in the afternoon was okay. Harry. Harry was not okay.

He could not sleep, not normally, not without the help of a potion— the non-addictive brewing formula for dreamless sleep Harry created late one sleepless night out of sheer desperation and only half a hope that it was not toxic helped quite a bit with that. Unfortunately, the long-term effects on a mind with no dreams were seldom studied. Harry had a feeling it would not be good for his fraying sanity. He could not relax, either. Everytime Harry tried to relax his occlumency shields, the shadows crept. The upside was he was likely better than even Snape at the mind arts by now. The downside was that even though he was used to constantly practicing some form of occlumency, having full strength shields raised all the time was  _ definitely  _ having negative results on his psyche.

Harry decided to ignore all of this in favor of avoiding the ominous moving shadows. Harry also decided that he was not being reckless and his decision counted since he was still mostly in his right mind.

For now, the goal was survival, he just had to make it through the interview with the Dumbledore to be hired— Quirrell and Lockheart were both employed so mere questionable sanity actually put him as one of the more competent candidates he felt. After that he could move into Hogwarts and either the wards or the library would have to hold the answer to what was going on. It had to be some sort of spell or ritual residue or attack on his mind… in all seriousness, there was nothing else that it could possibly be.  _ Bloody creeping shadows. _

Harry turned on the spot and landed at Hogwart’s gate, the edge of the apparition field. His eyes lit fondly when he saw it was Hagrid who had come to greet him.

“‘Ello there. I’m Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys for Hogwarts ‘ere,” the large man greeted in his overly-loud friendly manner.

“Hadrian Black.” Harry shook the offered hand and was proud he did not wince, he could have sworn Hagrid was more careful with his strength… perhaps because he was a child then?

“This way, follow me,” Hagrid nodded towards the path and set off ambling down it. “Dumbledore tells me you’re interviewing for the Defense position?”

“I am.” Harry meant to say more, but a flicker on the edge of his vision caught his attention, he sent it a nasty glare. He turned back to see Hagrid watching him with a questioning look. “Shadows, one must be careful.”

Hagrid shrugged. “Do you know a man named Mad-Eye Moody? Great auror that one. I think the pair of you could get on alright.” A huffing laugh was drawn from Harry.

“Indeed,” he said with his lips quirked into a wry smile.

The pair had just about reached the main doors when one was flung open. The man who appeared behind it was no other than Severus Snape, Harry thought he glimpsed a wand being tucked away.

“This is Mr. Black?” His eyes were narrowed with mistrust and his voice held a note of disdain. Harry narrowly avoided raising a brow, it would seem that his surname would be doing him no favors. If he remembered correctly, Snape looked even more hateful than their original meeting, if possible.

“Aye that he is, I’m taking him up to the Headmaster’s office,” Hagrid responded, seeming oblivious to the tension splayed between them.

“No need, I’ll escort him,” Snape sneered, it seemed an effort to keep his voice level.

“Well thanks for that. This ‘ere is Professor Severus Snape, he teaches potions. It was nice to meet you Mr. Black.” Hagrid nodded once more in their direction before departing with a wave.

Snape started walking briskly away, Harry rolled his eyes skyward once before following. “You looked to be in quite the hurry,” he commented lightly. It was curious that Snape was sent to retrieve him, seemingly ready for a fight.

“Security matter, the Headmaster sensed something dangerous had entered the wards. Perhaps from the Forest. I was tasked to retrieve you as well should no danger be apparent.” Frankly, Harry was surprised Snape answered at all.

Being inside the castle was doing Harry no favors, the shadows danced despite his solid grasp on his occlumency barriers. It seemed this was the best he could do in his exhausted state. His suspicious glares did not go unnoticed and he nearly chuckled seeing Snape edge away from him, a muttered ‘Mad-Eye’ under his breath.

They made the rest of the trek to Dumbledore’s office in silence. Snape muttered a password under his breath that sounded markedly similar to ‘lemon drops’ and the gargoyle swung aside. At the top of the stairs, Snape knocked on the door and they were beckoned in.

“Come in. Ah, Severus, and you must be Hadrian Black. I am the Headmaster of this school.”

Harry carefully controlled his expression at seeing the old man again, alive. He was not sure if he wanted to hug him or strangle him. Afterall, Dumbledore was the wizard both directly and indirectly responsible for many of his childhood problems, and the ‘secrets for the greater good’ was no small part of it.

“Well met,” Harry nodded his greeting as Snape merely glanced at Dumbledore, making brief eye contact, before departing. Harry’s eyes kept flickering to the shadows, they made for an enticing display.

“Take a seat, Minerva tells me you are to be our newest defense professor,” he chuckled and his eyes twinkled. “Of course, I prefer to conduct a formal interview as well.”

“Minerva told me that as well.” Harry took a seat.

“So, what brings you back to England? I was not aware there were any other branches of the Black family tree abroad.”

“I, unfortunately, am the last. I returned after my travels were over, the rest is a family story.”

“A simple enough reason, I suppose. What would be your plans for the students?”

“Defense against both wizards and creatures. Perhaps a field portion to the classes as well, with your permission of course,” Harry was honestly impressed with himself— he had no lesson plans beyond ‘less likely to die after learning this’, although, he supposed that was the purpose of the class in the end.

“A field portion? What sort of teaching would that involve?”

“Well, you have both a forest and a lake full of magical creatures as well as an entire wizarding world full of practical learning opportunities. Why not prepare them through structured experience?” Dudley used to tell stories of his field trips, Harry never got to go of course. They always sounded like a fun time.

“Ah, but most of these places are far too dangerous for our students, especially those beyond the wards. It would be impossible to guarantee their safety,” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he considered the idea, it was an intriguing proposition.

“And if I could?”

“Guarantee the safety of an entire class of underaged wizards in an hostile environment?” Here the headmaster’s eyebrows rose to his hairline, his disbelief evident.

“Only the group that would choose to come on their free periods. Completely optional and open to all students,” Harry amended. “Normal classes would be a combination of practical spellwork and knowledge necessary for both their future and their exams.”

“Hmmm. Say, have you ever heard of Voldemort?” If possible, his eyebrows rose even higher when Harry did not react to the name.

“The Dark Lord, said to be vanquished eleven years ago,” Harry scowled into the shadows at the poor job made of his ‘death’.

“Indeed.” Now it was Dumbledore’s turn to search for the shadows, though he found none. “Well, I believe you will be a promising professor. I’ll agree to the field portion so long as you clear each trip with me ahead of time.” The old man rose and Harry was quick to follow. Harry made his departure after the pair shook on it and had his copy of the contract in hand. He was actually rather excited as it was late enough in the summer that the professors were invited back to begin preparations for class, organize their office, and set-up their rooms.

Of course, Harry still had to decide where he wanted to live. Harry did warn Dumbledore that he may not be living in the school full time but would have access to a regular floo, citing unsettled family affairs as the reason. There were still Horcruxes in this world and one was too many as far as Harry was concerned.

It took a bit of wandering, but Harry eventually found an unused room on the top floor, with a decent view of the Whomping Willow and the forest beyond. A few cleaning charms later and it was liveable. His last task of the day was to clear out his room at the Leaky Cauldron. Harry had long ago stopped having any items he did not carry on his person but he did have some standing wards he would rather not leave up— especially a ward schema that should not exist yet. It was still nice out so Harry walked to the ward boundary and silently spun on his heel and disappeared.

Meanwhile, Snape slipped back into Dumbledore’s office once Black had left.

“Did you find anything, Severus?” Dumbledore questioned. The old wizard drew himself up, sounding much more serious, and tired.

“The only thing to enter the wards was Black. Are you sure it was a valid threat?”

“The wards have not failed.”

“Then it must have been Black.” They shared a moment of silence, each mentally reviewing their first impressions of the wizard.

“Time will tell. I’ve hired him on for the year, applicants have been sparse and better to have him here to observe. I’d like for you to keep a watch on our Professor Black, Severus. I’m counting on you,” Dumbledore replied, Snape scowled but nodded his acquiescence nevertheless and took his leave.

Left to ponder his thoughts, Dumbledore sat attempting to organize his mind with the recent and alarming developments. The wards were triggered with intent to harm, yet he did not feel that at all from Black. However, the man did seem to be preoccupied by some unseen entity which was slightly concerning for his mental stability. Even Mad-Eye could not trace his background, perhaps the Black family was under oath after all. With how the bloodline turned out historically, having young Mr. Black closeby might prove prudent.

A flutter of wings on the windowsill roused him from his thoughts and Dumbledore opened the window to the unfamiliar owl. It could not be carrying anything that meant harm through the wards. To be safe, Albus cast a few detection spells before taking the letter. The owl flew off, obviously instructed not to wait for a reply. Settling at his desk once more, Dumbledore paled to see the flowing script on the envelope. The color drained from his face as he opened it and read further.

_ Headmaster, _

_ It would seem that we are both invested in shaping this world to our image. Different though they are. Mid-summer I performed a ritual to gather myself in the image I desired. You should not be surprised, I am told you always suspected afterall. It was flawed. It gathered too much. Something else arrived, something from  _ nearby _. I do not know what but the magical power and intent I felt was concerning. My most competent followers were unable to locate the source. In the interest of not adding a third to our little game, I thought it prudent to inform you to summon your flock. _

_ Happy hunting. _

__ _ ~Yours truly. _

Alone in his office, Dumbledore spoke, his words hushed with horror. “Oh Tom, what have you done?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I disappeared for a while but hey, here's another chapter. I do mean to complete this story eventually, this chapter has literally been written over months and does jump around a bit. As usual, any inaccuracies, spelling/grammar, or continuity issues are more than welcome to be pointed out!

Harry bid farewell to Tom and made his way back to Hogwarts after having cleared out his magic and erased any signs that he had modified the room. Eagerly Harry made his way back to his room and started casting wards once more— he was still not going to let himself slip into unpacking his affects, perhaps one day but certainly not yet. These were wards he knew to be time-friendly but still strong enough to hold out those not invited and to alert him with proximity triggers to tampering.

Finally, it was time for Harry to sleep. Finally. It did not matter that the sun had barely brushed the horizon. Harry was tired. The shadows were still there, still watching, _waiting,_ but Harry could only last so long, he had to sleep _sometime._ If he could not trust the Hogwarts wards to hold— for all the problems during his school years, they still held strong for when it counted— then there was no hope for him at all.

With an almost reverent air, Harry laid down on the made bed, fully intent on a blissful nap, and closed his eyes. Almost instinctively, Harry sank down into his mindscape where he reviewed his occlumency as a form of meditation. Here, he carefully began to unwind the rigid shields he had been forcing himself to keep up, it was alarming how natural that state had become, slowly shifting to become a part of his passive energy. His mind was now still guarded but notably more relaxed with no active magic needed to hold his shields. After that, it was simple. Harry allowed his mind to wander and slipped off to sleep.

The next moment, the shadows swallowed him up. 

XXX

Harry woke immediately, opening his eyes to the chill of the abyss. There was nothing, he was standing on… nothing? His foot slipped, with a curse Harry scrabbled for purchase on the surface he _knew_ was there because it _was._ For a heart-stopping moment, it seemed as if he would fall. The next, he did. A soundless shout of panic left his lips and his magic flew loose without his permission and latched onto a familiar trace it found and _pulled_ him back.

The wizard landed on his bed in a heap, he rose slowly to a sitting position, panting heavily, his heart pounding.

“Bugger,” he muttered. Harry took a fortifying breath, slammed his occlumency shields even higher than before, and then stood, striding out of his rooms and off to the library— the desire to sleep, even with a potion, had left him.

There was no one minding the shelves, his mind registered dimly that he was likely missing the evening meal. Harry found that nearly falling into an endless void had effectively killed his appetite. With an open palm raised, he settled at a table buried in the restricted section and summoned books to him that felt even remotely similar to the force he was recently exposed to.

Hours later still found him in the library long after Madam Prince had done a final check and sealed the doors for the night. Oddly enough, it found Severus Snape there too. Harry felt him enter through his occlumency which he found served an interesting purpose in making him more sensitive than ever to another’s magical signature. The hypothesis was that with enough occlumency, one was naturally pushed towards legilimency which was ultimately an extension of the former skill traditionally speaking.

Snape watched Black nod at him the moment he rounded the corner into view, seemingly unsurprised at his presence despite his near silent appearance after so long a period of solitude. “Black, you do know it will be dawn in a few hours?”

“I do,” the man smirked ruefully. “Little sleep seems to suit me.”

Severus narrowed his eyes, considering his words.

“Nevermind me, what are _you_ doing up as well, Snape?” The man in question huffed and left once more in a swirl of robes. He had no idea why he had woken nor why he decided to make his way to the library to soothe his restless limbs and he was _not_ about to explain that to a _Black_ of all people.

Snape huffed, “Restless.”

A rueful smile crossed Harry’s lips, “You too, huh? Well, you’re more than welcome to lend a hand.” Black swept a hand through the air, indicating the mess of books strewn across the table before him.

Severus could not help but raise a brow at the other wizard after taking a glance at some of the titles, at least one appearing to have been written in _runes_ of all things never mind the Latin, Ancient Greek, and other equally obscure languages he saw mixed in. The lot clearly pilfered from forgotten corners of the Restricted Section. “And _what_ exactly are you researching?”

Harry barked a laugh, “I know how strange it looks, believe me, I know. Voids, magic trees, and a garden, complete with enough half-scrawled margin notes to drive a man crazy.”

“The Garden of Eden?” Snape drawled, intending to be completely sarcastic, he paused though, when Black’s jaw dropped.

“You’ve heard of it?”

“It’s a reference to a muggle religious manuscript. The Bible. I said it in jest, though in poor taste, not many of the old crowd are raised to know such things,” Snape offered a brief explanation, sitting to start browsing what works he was literate in.

Black hair swung messily side to side as Harry shook his head almost frantically and he roughly shoved through the books to reveal a parchment half-covered in his own scrawling notes. “No, I’ve seen that name, in the runic journal there, the author left a stray note in the column. I did not recognize the rune at first and it took me a bit to translate because it was a name. Eden.”

Intrigued, Snape leaned forward and picked up the nearest of the books still stacked unopened. “Strange.”

“Quite.”

They settled into silence, broken only by the sound of quills on parchment once Snape pilfered some from Harry’s own. It was still studiously at work that dawn found the two men. The first rays of light not reaching through the thick stone but still ruffling Harry’s magic nonetheless.

“It’s morning, are you coming?” Black asked, looking at Snape questioningly.

“To where, breakfast will not be served for some hours yet.”

“The light is breaking the horizon, I’m going up to watch the dawn, for all it doesn’t drive the shadows off.”

“You’ve been reading Middle English too long,” Severus commented dryly as he rose to join him, following the other man out with a muttered, “Shadows?” under his breath. It had, more than once, occurred to the man while reading and casually observing Black, that the other might not be entirely of sound mind. Perhaps Black was watching the shadows earlier. It was arguable whether visual hallucinations or a wandering mind was the worse of his suspected diagnosis.

XXX

Internal monologue aside, Severus did have to admit that Black had a point. There was something unerringly _quiet_ about watching the light climb the sky from the edge atop the Astronomy Tower where the pair had perched.

They parted ways not long after the sun routed the grey from their rooftop perch, Harry to wander the halls and secret ways back to the library muttering ‘not enough’ and Severus to the Great Hall for breakfast. It would not be till evening that day that he would realize he had yet to get a straight answer out of Black about _why_ he was so fanatically researching such an obscure topic.

At the head table in the hall that night, the professors were all there save two, having arrived to prepare lesson plans and materials for classes, Hadrian Black was still missing. It was uncanny really, none but Snape had seen him beyond his initial interview. The professors had, by now, gotten descriptions from Hagrid and McGonagall. Dumbledore would have been questioned as well but he had retreated to his rooms, and the few times they had crossed paths he could be seen walking briskly and muttering under his breath. Owls to and from his window were a frequent sight.

Strange to the outsider, but for those in the Order, having already received summons for an emergency meeting in three days time, the Headmaster’s behavior was worrying indeed. Albus was well aware that his own tension was affecting the other Professors but it was necessary as he had much to do in little time. Through the use of various contacts and a favor from a friend in the Department of Mysteries, he was able to confirm the truth of Tom’s letter. _Something_ indeed had come knocking when Tom performed the ritual. The feeling of being on the same page for once was quite peculiar.

Meanwhile, keeping an eye on Hadrian was proving difficult at best, the man gave no cause for suspicion yet the dark intent that appeared with him showed no signs of dissipating. Actions aside, the man was all but impossible to find. Fortunately, Severus seemed to have an almost uncanny idea of where he was and Hadrian would turn up eventually. Unfortunately, something was definitely _off_ about the new DADA Professor, he seemed overly-jumpy and Severus was hexed several times before he learned to approach with extreme care. Perhaps he was merely anxious about the start of class. Thirteen days, that was all they had to get everything sorted before the students arrived.

XXX

Thirteen days. The thought of spending thirteen days with occlumency shields so high was sickening. Harry was not sure he’d make it with his sanity intact. It was once again pre-dawn and Harry was walking briskly to the library. He felt more than saw movement in the corner of his eye and had his wand out, a bone-breaking spell already on the tip of his wand. A flash of familiar dark robes had him pausing with a sigh.

“How many times must I ask? Wear a bell or something, _please_ ,” Harry begged, exasperated.

“Perhaps I should. Although you seem to have no trouble avoiding the others. That was a _bone breaking curse_ on your wand just now, you do realize there will be _students_ here soon scurrying about underfoot,” Snape replied, tilting his head with some concern.

“I can feel in my magic when they’re there. I'll avoid them,” Black waved off-handedly.

“Wait, if you can sense the others why is it you then curse me each time we cross paths?” Severus ground out, having caught the illogic in his words and now found himself rather irritated. Black looked over at him, eyes widening.

“Reflex. I think the better question is _why_ I seem to let you close enough to begin with,” Hadrian hurried off to the library.

Snape sighed. “Reflex, he says. _Reflex._ Oh that makes sense, yes Headmaster, hire the man with combat reflexes into the bloody school.” Snape followed Black into the library anyway.

The pair sat at their by now usual table. “What are you researching Black?” Snape then ducked a stinging hex.

“I told you not to ask.”

“Yeah well you don’t have to hex me every time I do. You run off into here often enough. What did you have to do to Madam Pince to get her to let you keep a workstation with so many of her beloved books?”

“Nothing,” Harry huffed. “I put wards up excluding any I didn’t want to find it.”

“And you included me because..?” Snape trailed off, curious. This led to more eye widening and a new stack of books being summoned. He read some of the titles. “Oh come on, you cannot possibly understand _all_ of these languages!”


	7. Chapter 7

It was not completely at the Headmaster’s urging that kept Severus close to Black, there was definitely _something_ strange about the man. Something possibly rather alarming. Severs was starting to suspect that he was being hit by the man’s spellwork more often that he thought. Over the last few days he’d begun to have blank spots in his memories, always ending up besides Black in the library with no recollection of how he’d gotten there. It was… unnerving.

The dark intent warnings were still flaring in the wards, Dumbledore having had keyed him in to be able to receive the messages due to his position as a spy. As such, Snape was unsure if he should try and warn Albus, if he had already tried, or if there was something he learned about Black that the other wizard did not want to risk coming out. On the other hand, the man was a quick draw with his wand and free with his curses. Each time he came to, Black would look up from his book and apologize before reiterating his request that he wear a bell of some sort.

This would ultimately lead them back into the circular argument of why no one else in the _entire castle_ had a problem of running into Black while that man was unaware and, when it happened, it was a big problem. Black always stated that Severus was hit with a stunner but all the near misses were serious curses, deadly curses, so Snape was sure he was missing something.

Harry, on the other hand, was beginning to realise that moral integrity may need to be regulated to solely one’s home universe. Snape was just so damn _observational_ that it made it hard for him to hide his secrets in peace. The wards he had up for detection and gentle repulsion consistently did not work on the man and it took Harry forever to figure it out. The one thing, the _only_ thing that made the man different enough to slip through his magic was the dark mark. The horcrux that he carried around for his entire life was the only reason that he would be able to sense a Death Eater. He was not the creator so the mark did not darken in his presence yet he could sense it because of the horcrux he held. A horcrux he still had if his retained parseltongue abilities were any indicator, merely deactivated.

An unfortunate side effect was Snape being able to find Harry, being drawn to him subconsciously when near, and Harry allowing it because normally he would be marked as someone loyal. The only problems were that one, Harry had a dangerous habit of nearly killing those who startled him and his increased vigilance did not help any, and two, he was certain the other death eaters out there would not merely swear at him or throw a stinging hex in return.

Therefore, Harry had begun experimenting.

After a few meditation sessions and inspecting his occlumency shields, Harry was able to gain a precise awareness of the mark. This way he would not be startled any longer. True, it required him to strengthen his shields even further but, if he was going insane then he was going to do it right. Often Harry wondered if it was better or worse how much his passive magic had taken over holding his mindscape in place. In addition, Harry had created a bracelet to be worn on the marked arm that would let him identify Severus as a friendly. It had taken some adjustments and field testing to get it right though. Hence the missing memories of Severus after a good stunning and obliviate. Harry would also admit to having taken liberties and reviewed Snape’s knowledge of both him and any Order affairs.

Perhaps the easiest part of his plan would be getting Snape to put it on. It’s not like the threat of injury wasn’t uncomfortably real around Harry. The wizard would just neglect to tell the other man that it could only be removed by the creator. Really, no need for any more issues of friendly fire or losing track of his favorite— okay, only known— spy into both Voldemort’s and Dumbledore’s ranks.

The morning before classes began found Harry cornering Snape outside of his rooms. Severus jumped seeing the other wizard leaning against the wall across the hall, staring for once directly at him without his eyes flicking to some unseen spot beside him, having fully expected him to walk out and that precise moment.

“Dammit Black, what are you trying to pull?” Snape growled having promptly flinched and ducked a bit at seeing the man. He couldn’t help gaining some survival reflexes around the man. Which was still ridiculous, because they were both professors, in a school, for children.

“Ooh is the big bad potions master scared?” Harry smirked, “Don’t think I haven’t heard the rumors.”

“Sure,” Snape huffed, “heard from lurking around some corner. Don’t think I haven’t heard from the other staff that you avoid them.”

“Yes well, I’ve figured out a solution to your particular situation,” Harry replied, dodging the implied question of why.

“What, figured out a way to avoid me too?” Snape replied, raising a brow. His face didn’t change but mentally he was running through different implications of what that could mean.

“Better, a bell.” Harry held up what looked like a thin length of twisted black leather with a silver clasp. “Nothing dangerous, just spelled to give me a little mental nudge a friendly is around so I’ll stop getting so twitchy. Like you said, no need to get students caught up in the cross-fire.”

“Oh really?” Snape took the offered item and inspected it skeptically. “You want me to wear this?”

“I’d certainly prefer it. Look, it’s spelled to be nigh unnoticeable to you and others, you’ll only notice it’s there if you want to.” Harry nodded meaningfully at the hand he held it in. “Please?”

“Fine,” Snape sighed, exasperated. He put it on his left arm, it just felt right that way. Once the clasp closed, Snape did have to hand it to Harry, it was comfortable and easily forgettable if he wasn’t trying to notice it.

“Great! Thanks!” Harry clapped a bewildered Snape on the shoulder and sauntered off to wander the dungeon, leaving Severus to wonder what had gotten into the suddenly tactile man. Normally, Harry subtly made sure to avoid contact. Raising his eyes to the ceiling as if some divine entity would give him the strength to deal with the odd man’s exentricies, he too took his leave towards the Great Hall.

Around the corner, Harry paused and took a breath to collect himself. Eight tries, it took him eight tries to get the damn man to agree to put the bracelet on. Any more and he was going to have to resort to piecemealing an obliviated conversation together. He’d even resorted to physical contact, something which made him uncomfortable nowadays, to distract Snape from the bracelet. With a bit of luck, it would be quite some time before the man even thought to remember the bracelet at all. It was spelled to be unnoticeable after all, along with a few other compulsions to put it on, keep it on, and not question it.

Now there was only one thing left to do.

XXX

Harry had not been idle the last sum of days and not all his spare time was spent on experimenting with his wards and occlumency— although that bracelet did start to drive him spare on a few of his already sleepless nights. The Garden of Eden, the pet name Harry had now chosen to call it, also weighed heavy on his mind.

All of his research indicated that the shadows that stalked him did indeed seem to be connected to the place he once fell into. The higher his shields and the more his passive magic took over, the easier it was to ignore the faintly swaying wisps. Still, occlumency was meant for hiding secrets and emotions so the more he practiced, the harder it was for Harry to react appropriately in social situations. He was beginning to creep Snape out of all people for Merlin’s sake, the dungeon bat known for scarily lurking and being generally unpleasant.

Even so, curiosity and cats and all dictated that, logically, there really was no other option but for Harry to end up laying back on his bed, eyes closed and prepared to let his mind slide through the fabric of existence once more.

This time Harry did not lower his shields, instead he mentally reached out, like he was searching for those around him, and let himself _shift_ a bit to some inexplicable direction. The landing into the other plane was still disorienting however, Harry had gone over the memory numerous times in order to prepare himself and it took notably less effort to get his bearings on something solid.

When he was now straddling _something_ on all fours once more, Harry concentrated _very hard_ on its existence, slowly opening his senses to figure out which one was allowing him to connect although he had a pretty good idea. Reaching out with his magic, Harry let it explore the area around him starting with his feet and moving out from there. He was standing on… a tree? A very big tree. That was invisible to all but mage sense, selectively tangible, and massive. From the very brink of his now straining senses, he almost felt there could be more. A Garden of Eden indeed. Huffing at the thought of a garden of abyss trees, Harry began focusing on the subtle differences in the details near him. His life was weird, but not _that_ weird for the shadows to be an unconnected anomaly…. Well… Harry hoped not.

Logically, Harry knew that he had to have slipped through something. _Like the fabric of the universe._ His mind supplied him with the sequence of events leading up to his earlier failed, and sorely missed, attempt at sleep. Releasing his rigid occlumency was what allowed him to fall through, and, now that he had a moment to think about it, it had been brought back up almost instinctively from when he was in danger of falling. So his stability in this world or the next— he preferred the one with light— depended on him holding the incredibly strict shields. The real question was, how to return.

Carefully, Harry stood and walked closer to the trunk of the tree and sat down to lean against it while he thought.

XXX

A half hour later Harry was still stuck on the magic tree and had accomplished nothing but a growing sense of boredom.

Harry had felt out the details around him and even further explored the branches above and below the one he originated on. He had a sense they were closely linked to time and place in the World of Light as he knew it. Harry could sense it was important not to lose track of where he came from until he could figure it out on his own.

Letting his magic loose to fully expand yet again, Harry closed his eyes in meditation, this time not having any goal but mentally moving across the space. Not having any other choice, he opted to be patient and see what turned up.

Slowly, finally, Harry began to get a sense of familiarity from several locations along the tree. Some felt like where he left but _before_ or _after._ Others felt like new places entirely although he would have to study further to get a sense of how accurate his _closer_ or _away_ could get. The frightening part was the idea that some places felt wrong or different altogether and the other trees he originally thought were too far across the void he found were not entirely out of reach. The Garden of Eden, of innocence, was a rather apt name he decided. In a way, innocence held its own meaning. The Empty perhaps described the trees and void together more accurately. For if Eden was paradise, the place Harry had come to was surely anything but.

Wrapping his magic back around himself, Harry went towards the sport that felt the most familiar and let himself slide not quite sideways yet again. Like a canvas dipped in water paint, color bled back into sight and Harry remained slumped in the bed in relief. A small smile crept across his face.

He’d done it. He still couldn’t sleep quite right but the solace in the knowledge that if he messed up he could find his way home did wonders for the constant tension he felt. As long as his room wards were up, it wouldn’t matter if he disappeared in the night on accident. Maybe he could even dream.

Now all that remained was twenty-four hours before the Welcome Feast for the students began and his woefully unprepared and under trained self would be expected to teach classes. To children. Oh the joy.

With a great heave of effort, Harry managed to get to the edge of the bed and stand up again, exhausted from the strange use of his magic. He slipped out of his room to go find Severus and get some teaching advice.

XXX

It was extremely easy to locate the man having the equivalent of a mental beacon of where he was in his mind at all times. Severus saw Harry making a beeline towards him and absolutely did not attempt to run away before being caught.

“You know a lot about teaching right?” Harry questioned, a cheshire grin showing his teeth.

“Yes,” Snape answered warily, drawing the word out and wondering where Black was going with all this.

“Perfect. So, say for example, what do you do if a student tries to kill you?” Black asked earnestly.

“And why, for Merlin’s sake, would that happen?” Severus was already regretting not trying harder to run away. No, briskly attend to important business. Somewhere else. Far away.

“Is it not a normal occupational hazard?” Black questioned, sounding for all the world like this was something _mundane._ Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“No, Black. No it’s not.”

“Oh.”

“What do you mean ‘oh’?! And why do you sound disappointed?! No, don’t you leave, answer me dammit! Black, Black!”

Some of the other staff would later report to hearing indiscernible raised voices and manic laughter echoing down the halls. A request for the Headmaster to talk to the resident ghosts about appropriate behavior in front of children would be lodged.


End file.
